Excerpt Monday: SYTYCW Opening

Once a month, Bria Quinlan and Alexia Reed host a bunch of authors who get together and post excerpts from published books, contracted work or works in progress, and link to each other. You don’t have to be published to participate–just be a writer with an excerpt you’d like to share. For more info on how to participate, head over to the Excerpt Monday site or click on the banner above!

This month’s excerpt is an extended version of the opening of Revealed which got a total revamp during Bria’s SYTYCW contest. I learned so much with this contest. I think the biggest thing was that I could tell people that I’m writing a romance novel and most of them didn’t laugh at me. Ok. You got me. None of them did, at least not to my face. The other things I learned were don’t overthink/overwrite the life out of something. Sometimes you have to go with your first instincts and always get someone else to read it before hitting send. If you decide you don’t like the second sentence, for example, you’re stuck with it in this type of contest — make a note in your word file to change it later and move on!

If you’re one of the many that I begged votes from, you can read the original 2400 word version of Marcia’s story by clicking on it. It reveals something of the trauma she experienced at her first ball. After going back and rereading it just now, I’m surprised to see what I’ve kept and what’s been tossed or changed in taking the original 2400 words and expanding it to its current 41,000-word length. It’s definitely still a work in progress.

Read on below to see the new opening chapter and get a chance to meet the hero (if you’re not a regular reader here at the blog).

Miss Marcia Elizabeth Drummond snatched the ivory invitation from the salver and perused the elegant handwriting. Dashing away a tear that clung stubbornly to her lashes, she wished six years of accumulated shame could be brushed away as easily. Her hand trembled as she crossed the room and flung the horrid thing into the fireplace.

Then, with her arms wrapped tight about her, she encouraged the grasping flames while reflecting on how the Avery’s annual masquerade never failed to transform her into a watering pot. Burn before Mother sees you, please.

As she stared into the unobliging fire, cherished memories renewed their endless struggle with those she was unable to forget. First, the visions of fairytale splendor and extravagant costumes became a phantom flight of swirling, snapping black capes. The gentle masculine hand, firm at the small of her back, turned into rough paws groping, pinching and lobbing her back and forth. And perhaps worst of all, the feelings of anticipation and freedom were replaced by the stickiness that had lingered in the wake of their slobbery kisses.

Pulling Marcia out of her reverie, her mother’s footsteps echoed in the hallway only to be followed by the inevitable cheery greeting, “Darling, did you see Lady Avery’s invitation finally arrived with this morning’s post?”

The Avery’s Masquerade Ball would be the one invite her mother delighted in receiving each year.

“These violets are shrinking. They need replaced. See to it, Sarah.” Her mother’s voice sounded from the other side of the half-closed door to the hallway.

Marcia reached for the poker but her hand never closed on the handle. Light from the hall flooded the room as her mother swept into the library. Marcia spun around to face her and clutched at her skirts, straining to block her view of the fireplace.

“Mother.” After dropping a polite curtsey, Marcia stared at the floor.

Marcia stifled a groan and watched in silence as her mother’s keen gaze darted from the empty salver on the side table to the crackling fire only partially obscured by her skirts.

A rush of blood heated Marcia’s cheeks but she dared not move.

Her mother arched one immaculate eyebrow and shook her head. She strode across the room to stop in front of Marcia. “Step aside, dear.”

Obedience trounced rebellion. Her mother rescued the card from its imminent demise. The parchment dangled from her pinched fingers and she pursed her lips and dispersed the fine powdery covering of stray ashes with a breath.

“Marcia, darling, my oldest and dearest friend would never forgive our absence. We shan’t disappoint her, shall we?”

“No, Mother.” She hated how meek she sounded, but experience warned her mother would remain deaf to any argument against attending. Each invitation made an explanation of her aversion to masquerade balls more difficult.

One simply did not discuss such ordeals. Even with one’s mother. Especially not her mother.

“I believe we shall forgo a round of visits and stay in this afternoon. We do want to look our best for the new Duchess of Bolster’s dinner party tonight.”

Marcia groaned aloud at the reminder. Viscount Barrington, the best friend of the Duke of Bolster and the one she held responsible for that disastrous night six years ago, was certain to be in attendance.

Her mother swept out of the library and paused in the doorway. “And do get some rest, Marcia. Your color is a tad flushed today.”

Turning back to gaze at her daughter, the light from the hall illuminated her mother’s gorgeous mane of blonde hair, shining like a halo. Anything but angelic, the glint in her mother’s eye promised excuses would not be tolerated.

* * *

Hugh Daniel Leighton, Viscount Barrington, brushed past the butler. Hartwell didn’t bother to announce the viscount’s arrival just pulled the door closed behind him.

The latch clicked and Hugh met cold, black stares from both the Duke and Duchess of Bolster. Good Lord. His friends appeared ready to commit murder.

To loosen the elaborate stranglehold of his cravat, he hooked a finger beneath the constrictive silk and tugged. He failed to recollect instructing his valet to tie it this tight before he left his rooms at the Albany.

Hugh sketched an irreverent bow to the couple. “Good afternoon, Your Graces. To what do I owe the pleasure of your ducal summons?”

The appearance of their imperious note, along with a footman instructed to wait while he dressed and to accompany him back to Bolster House, surprised him.

“Barrington, you fool. What were you thinking?” The Duke’s face flushed beet red and the vein throbbed at his temple. This couldn’t be good.

“Thinking?” He pasted on his most effective, lop-sided grin and shrugged. Charm had salvaged many a sticky situation and James harbored a soft spot for him.

“Yes. I realize the concept might be novel to you, but please assure me you do it some time.” The Duke didn’t seem inclined to be lenient today.

“Really, James Wyndham. You mustn’t berate him so.” Hugh brightened as the lovely duchess intervened on his behalf.

“And stop smiling at my wife in that fashion.” Bolster continued to grumble under his breath until she nudged him with her elbow.

“Hugh, you must understand how your actions reflect upon others.” The tone the Duchess used sobered him. Something serious was afoot, indeed.

“You and James have always been associated in people’s minds. Before his uncle died, your antics and wild ways were excusable and largely ignored by society.” She sighed.

“I merely followed James’ lead—”

She held up a hand to interrupt him. “However, if you continue to behave in such an outrageous manner we will be forced to banish you from the household.” The look she exchanged with James excluded him. “For the sake of the girls.”

Hugh flushed with guilt. He wiped his palms on his jacket. Thirty years old and he felt called on the carpet by the headmaster.

The details of last night were fuzzy at best, but he didn’t want to jeopardize the easy-going friendship and sense of belonging he enjoyed within the Wyndham household.

“Good grief, man. Don’t you remember humiliating Lord and Lady Threapwood by—” Bolster glanced at his wife who nodded her permission to continue. “By watering the potted flowers on their library terrace in front of everyone?”

“Watered the flowers?” Hugh shook his head and stared at his friend for a moment in utter disbelief. From the way the Duchess blushed, he surmised neither watering can nor glass was used.

“What? Truly?” A bit beyond the pale even for him. The brandy had flowed freely but he hadn’t suspected he had been more than a trifle disguised.

Lord Threapwood and his high in the instep ways infuriated him. The old goat deserved it. His wife too. If she invited a few hundred less people, he might have been able to squeeze through the crowd and attended to his business in the proper manner.

He failed to understand why his friends were so upset or why he was at fault. Barking out a nervous guffaw, he hoped James would grin and share his amusement.

“How dare you attempt to laugh this off?” James stepped closer, his fist raised. Tabitha’s gentle touch on his arm stayed him.

Relief surged through Hugh. Her soothing gesture reminded him what a settling and guiding force Bolster’s new duchess had become in his friend’s life.

“How is the ton supposed to take the girls’ chances for marriage seriously when you continually muck about like this?” Normally, the throbbing of the vein at Bolster’s temple amused him, but today each throb carried a menacing threat.

His friend’s anger had not been so riled since Lord and Lady Threapwood’s previous soiree. James had planted him a facer when he thought Hugh was trying to seduce his cousin’s companion, Miss Tabitha Gifford. The same Miss Gifford who now glared at him as the newest Duchess of Bolster.

“Just a bit of fun, Shew-Bolster.” His friend’s new title still rolled awkwardly off his tongue. Two months ago Bolster’s cousin had gone mad as a hatter and started eliminating Wyndhams between him and the ducal seat. James defeated the fellow before he could harm Tabitha or himself.

But not before the blackguard spread rumors detailing their unsuitability as guardians for his cousins, Lady Juliet and Lady Henrietta. The Wyndham family’s connection with the mischievous Lord Barrington did not improve their status within the ton.

“Your unconventional idea of ‘fun’ sends tongues wagging all over London. Do you realize that by association, James’ chances of getting the girls married before the deadline are compromised?” The Duchess was not amused this afternoon.

Without giving him a chance to answer, she marched up to him and poked a finger against his chest emphasizing her words. “You will be on your best behavior tonight for my dinner party, Hugh. If I even suspect you of plotting some prank or another, Hartwell and the footmen will be instructed to remove you from this household. Permanently.”

Her lower lip quivered as she turned her back to him. Bolster glared at him over her shoulder while he gathered her into his embrace.

Unsure how to respond to Tabitha’s uncharacteristic display of anger, disappointment and disapproval, he spun on his heel and without another word took his leave of them and let himself out.

Tonight’s dinner party had completely escaped his mind.

If you enjoyed this, you might enjoy some of my other Excerpt Monday offerings.

Links to other Excerpt Monday writers
Note: I have not personally screened these excerpts. Please heed the ratings and be aware that the links may contain material that is not typical of my site.

Joining in this week:

Chelsie LaFountain, Fiction/Supernatural (PG13)

Allison Kelsey, Chick Lit (R), *SYTYCW Winner
Ella Drake, Space Western Romance (R)
Elise Hepner, Erotica (R)
Titus McGuire, Paranormal Drama (R)
Alexia Reed, Paranormal Romance (R)
Dara Young, Historical Romance (R)

Lisa Fox, Erotic Romance (NC-17)
Sorcha Mowbray, Erotic Historical Romance (NC-17)

As always, our hostesses Bria Quinlan (PG13), Alexia Reed (R), Rachel Jameson (PG13) and Kendal Corbitt (R) thank you for stopping by!